The Space Between
by madeleine68
Summary: After Infiltrated, Olivia's back, but Dani's not gone yet. Face-off time! THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! Review for more.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**This takes place after **_**Infiltrated **_**but before **_**Cage**_**. It's written from Olivia's point of view.**

**Please review for more!**

"We will be landing at JFK in approximately ten minutes," says the pilot's crackly voice over the airplane's intercom.

I'm on a plane on my way back from Oregon. I can't wait to get back to New York and my job at SVU. Working undercover with the environmentalists wasn't such a bad gig, except of course that it was a complete waste of time and the people in my group had done nothing wrong. Also, I ended up in jail – twice. So I'm definitely ready to return to the righteous side of the law as a detective. I'm definitely ready to get back to the hustle and the bustle of the big city. I'm definitely ready to be myself again instead of constantly worrying about keeping my cover.

I'm definitely ready to see Elliot again.

The plane lands a moment later and I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I don't know why I'm nervous, except for the fact that I haven't seen my friends in months. I miss them all, especially Casey and Elliot.

I get up the second the seatbelt sign is turned off, sling my purse over my shoulder, and get off the plane. Everyone around me is rushing too, which is ridiculous because they'll be waiting for the same amount of time anyway, whether they wait in the plane or at the baggage claim. I, on the other hand, didn't bring much luggage, only my purse and a backpack that I brought with me on the plane for this exact purpose.

I exit the airport and hail a cab. "Manhattan 1-6 precinct," I tell the driver. I'm too excited to wait even one more day to see my friends, like a child in a candy store.

It's a twenty minute taxi ride and when we reach the precinct, I pay the cab driver and climb out. I stare up at the building for a moment as a slow smile spreads across my face and I walk inside.

When I get to the squad room, my colleagues are sitting at their desks, chatting and laughing. Captain Cragen is nowhere to be seen. Casey is perched on Elliot's desk, her back to me.

I let out a sigh of relief and knock on the door to my captain's office. I smile at the expression of surprise on his face when he sees me. "Olivia," he says. "Are you back?"

I nod. "Yeah."

He smiles. "It's good to see you."

I smile back. "I'm going to go say hi to everyone else, okay?"

"Go ahead."

I shut the door behind me and go back into the squad room. John and Fin are at their desks and so is Elliot. A tall woman with a long braid down her back who I don't recognize is sitting at my desk, and my heart skips a beat when I realize she's Elliot's new partner. She's my replacement, and suddenly I feel like I can hardly breathe. I just stand and stare as he puts a hand on her shoulder and says something softly that I don't hear. She throws her head back and laughs.

Casey turns around first. "Hey, Liv," she says, her face lighting up when she notices me. "Long time, no see."

I manage a half-smile. "It's good to see you again."

Elliot starts and turns to face me with an expression on his face that can only be described as shame. "Hey, Liv."

My hurt and even envy directed as his new partner isn't ready to give way to niceties. "Who's that?" I bite out, inclining my head to the woman.

Elliot looks even guiltier and I wonder what the hell is going on here. He's too nervous for this not to mean something. My partner doesn't get flustered easily – or at least, he didn't _used _to. "Um, this is my new partner, Detective Beck. Dani, this is Detective Benson."

"His _old _partner," I say sarcastically.

Something flits across his new partner's face. It's gone as rapidly as it appeared and I feel a tinge of remorse. I know I'm being a bitch, but I've waited three whole months for this day, the day I would be reunited with my best friend in the world, Elliot. Anticipation always leads to disappointment; I should know that already. I was gone for three months and it would be unfair for me to expect the world to stop in my absence. Crime would still happen and it would still be the special victims unit's job to help the victims and prosecute the criminals. Elliot would need a new partner and they would grow close in those three months. In this unit, we were all like family, and Detective Beck would have stuck out like a sore thumb if she hadn't embraced that. I know I can't blame them but I can't stop the sense of betrayal that's bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

"I didn't mean it like that," says Elliot, rolling his eyes.

I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long day." _I missed you, Elliot, _I don't say, because he obviously hasn't missed me.

John leans back in his seat. "Hi, Olivia."

"Good to see you, Liv," adds Fin.

But I can't take my eyes off Elliot. He's sitting an inch too close to Detective Beck and it bothers me so much that I want to turn away, but I can't. I just stand and stare.

"Are you back for good?" asks Casey, and I nod.

"But seeing as Elliot's got a new partner, I guess I'm on my own."

I can't decipher the look on Elliot's face and it frightens me. I've always been able to read Elliot so well. We've been best friends since we met and such good partners that I can always tell what he's thinking and he can do the same with me. But I seem to have lost my touch and this scares me so much that I can hardly breathe.

"It's okay, Detective Benson," says Detective Beck coolly. "I'm not staying. My assignment was only temporary, until _you _returned."

"And since you didn't bother to tell us when that was going to be –" begins Elliot, in the tone usually reserved for perpetrators. He's never spoken to me this way before.

I cut him off. "I couldn't, Elliot, and you know it! It happened so suddenly and there wasn't anything I could do."

"Bull," says Elliot, standing, and I can see that he's angry now. I understand that this is his pain speaking now and he's just upset that I never told him, but it doesn't make his words hurt any less as he continues, "You could have given me a call. You didn't need to say anything except that you had to leave for a bit. You didn't even say goodbye and we needed you to close a case and we didn't know where you were. They issued a missing witness warrant and you never showed so the perp, who raped and killed four little girls, walked."

"I couldn't have –" I start, but he just talks over me, raising his voice as he never has before.

"We tried to call you and I had to tell the mothers of those little girls that we couldn't send their daughters' killer to jail because of _you_."

"That's not my fault!" I scream, out of control now. We both are and I wonder what's made Elliot turn against me like this. What have I done to deserve this? It's always been me and Elliot against the bad guys, never one of us against the other. I've never had to defend myself against my partner and best friend before. We've always watched each other's backs. He wanted to protect me from Christopher Plummer and Richard White and I was scared to death for him when he went undercover as a pedophile a year ago. We almost lost each other so many times and every time we came out unscathed, the entire squad breathed a collective sigh of relief. Now the energy we've always shared is a dead battery.

There's nothing left to say. I turn on my heel and walk out the door, ignoring Casey as she calls after me.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**Please review for chapter three!**

I kick off my shoes when I get into my apartment and flop down on my couch, exhausted. I've been on an emotional roller coaster all day. First, I was excited to see Elliot, Casey, and my other colleagues again. Then, I was hurt by Elliot's close friendship with his new partner. My pain gave way to anger and then disappointment in myself for not expecting it from the start. Now, I'm so mixed up that I don't even know how to feel. Rather than think about it, I drop my backpack on the ground and sit up. All I want is a long, hot bath, as if I can wash away my self-loathing with the warm water. Even Elliot's friendship is – _was _– superficial. He was the only one who ever cared about me for _me _– or so I thought.

I roll my eyes at myself as I run the bath. _Stop with the self-pity, Olivia! _I admonish myself. _You have other friends. Screw Elliot. He doesn't matter. I have Casey, and John and Fin. And Alex. _The realization jolts me so hard that tears rush to my eyes and I blink them away. _Had _Alex. Alex is gone. Just like everyone I ever care about, whether they leave me physically, like Alex did, or emotionally, like Elliot is doing now.

Thinking of Alex always hurts because we never got to say a proper goodbye. We were close friends years ago and then she was brutally torn away. She reappeared as if by magic and it was like a dream, but all dreams are too good to be true, and she had to leave again. How many times was I going to have to lose her? I heard several months ago that she was out of Witness Protection and I've called her and left messages, but she's never returned any of my calls. In a way, I understand this; Alex is – _was _– always so cool and calm, perfectly poised at all times. The Ice Queen, we called her. But I'd seen her in a position of vulnerability and she couldn't cope with that.

I understand how she feels.

I climb into the tub and let the warm water soothe my tense body. God, it feels good to be home.

* * *

The next morning, I debate whether or not I should go to the precinct. I'm back – or at least, I _want _to be – but I'm not wanted there. At least, _Elliot _doesn't want me there, and he's the one that truly counts.

Whatever. I've been through enough in my life that Elliot Stabler doesn't scare me. I can do this. I can face him – and myself.

I take a cab to the precinct and hesitate for just a moment before marching inside with my head held high.

Everyone looks up when I enter the squad room. Elliot and his new partner fall silent and John raises his hand in greeting. "Hey, Liv," says Fin.

I barely hear him because I've noticed a new dilemma. Where am I supposed to sit? I've started for my old desk, but Detective Beck is sitting there, and I'm too proud to sit anywhere else. So I just stand awkwardly in the middle of the squad room until the captain pokes his head out of his office. "Hi, Olivia," he says. "Ready to get back to work?"

I nod. "Yeah." I've been eager to return for three months. Even in Oregon, I could never shake the detective part of me. I gravitated to crime like a magnet even though I was technically no longer a SVU detective while I was away.

"Okay. Rape victim at 340 22nd Street, apartment 3B. Her name's Alicia Sutherland. You can –" He glances at Elliot, to whom he normally would have assigned to go with me, but can obviously feel the tension in the air, so instead he says, "Bring John with you."

I nod my agreement, even though I'm slightly disappointed that he hasn't asked Elliot to go with me. I grab my coat and John picks up the keys to a squad car. We exit the precinct in silence and I climb into the driver's seat of one of the cars. He doesn't say a word, even though I usually don't drive.

We drive to 22nd Street, layered tension in the air. When we arrive, I silently put the keys in my pocket and we get out of the car.

"You okay, Liv?" asks John, glancing at me.

I let out a low growl of frustration. He sounds so much like Elliot. They're always looking out for me, my colleagues, and they're so overprotective. _Elliot_. It hits me like a ton of bricks. He should be here with me. We should be doing this together, just as we used to.

I push away the thought and instead walk quickly into the apartment building. John follows me and we take the elevator up to the third floor. I knock on the second apartment. "Alicia?" I call.

"Go away!" cries a woman's hysterical voice.

"Alicia," I say. "We're the police. Can we come in?"

I hear a strangled sob and then the door opens. A woman with long red hair and big green eyes is standing in the doorway. She's in her mid-twenties or so and her face is white as a ghost. Her hands are shaking as she whispers, "Please come in."

I manage to give her a small smile as we enter the apartment and follow Alicia into the living room of her apartment. This is instinctive to me and it's almost as if I've never been away. Dealing with victims just comes naturally and it's like riding a bike. Once you learn, you can never forget it.

Pulling her bathrobe tightly around her, Alicia sits down on the couch and clasps her hands in her lap. She's trembling and all I want to do is hug her, but I know I'm the professional here and I have to hold it together. This was how I felt on my first case, how I felt the first case I was assigned to after I came back from computer crimes. It's because I've been out of the loop for awhile and I need to get back into the swing of things. To do this, I need to get a grip on my emotions and turn them off. Professional empathy is the say to deal with victims, with a balance of logic and compassion, instead of letting my feelings run the show. Because if I let my emotions rule me, I would end up murdering every single rapist and child abuser – every single _suspected _rapist and child abuser – that ever walks into the precinct.

John and I sit down next to Alicia. "Alicia," I say gently. "I'm Detective Benson and this is my –" I pause here, unsure what to say. I'm so used to introducing myself as Detective Benson and then saying, "And this is my partner, Detective Stabler." But this isn't Elliot and he's no longer my partner. Instead, I settle with, "And this is Detective Munch."

"Hi," she whispers.

"So, Alicia, will you tell me what happened?"

The redhead buries her head in her hands and begins to cry. I wait silently for her to compose herself and finally she lifts her head. "I didn't know him," she says shakily. "He came up behind me when I got home, around eight or so. I thought he was an intruder, but he put his hand over my mouth and told me he'd kill me if I screamed, so I didn't. He told me to open the door and I did. Then he pushed me inside and threw me on the bed and he –" She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye, not daring to even glance at John. "He raped me." She begins to weep again, harsh sobs wracking her body. "What am I going to tell my husband?"

John glances at me, then turns back to Alicia. "Your husband?"

She nods. "He's a cop." Then she bursts into tears again. "How can I tell him I've become a victim?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**Please review for the next chapter!**

John and I take Alicia back to the precinct. I've asked her if she wanted to call her husband, but she's refused. CSU are at her apartment now.

We bring her into an interrogation room and sit down around the table. Alicia casts a frightened glance at John, then whispers, "Detective Benson, there's something else."

"What?" I ask gently, leaning toward her.

She gives John another fleeting look and he gets the message. "I have some paperwork to do," he says, standing. "You'll be okay, Liv?"

I nod, not daring to tear my eyes away from Alicia.

"Thank you," she whispers as John leaves the room. She looks me in the eye and says, her voice devoid of all emotion, "While he raped me, he kept whispering this one thing in my ear. 'Cop's bitch,' he said. Over and over. When he finished, he – he pulled up my shirt and took out something – a lighter, a cigarette lighter, I think. He burned my stomach. CB." She lifts up her shirt to show me. I've seen a lot of gruesome things in this line of work, but the raw initials burned into this poor woman's stomach make me suck in my breath. Alicia tries unsuccessfully to suppress another sob. "CB. For 'Cop's bitch.'" Tears stream down her cheeks as she rushes on, "He must have been following me. He knew my husband. He knew he was a cop. Oh, what am I going to tell Patrick?"

I can't hold back anymore and I reach out to grasp her hand comfortingly. "Why don't you call him?" I suggest. "Ask him to come down here and I'll help you talk to him." Seeing the reluctant expression on her face, I give her hand a squeeze. "He'll understand," I assure her.

She closes her eyes but gives me a slight nod in response. "Okay," she concedes and pulls out her cell phone.

She dials a number and hands me the phone. It rings once, twice, then – "Sutherland," says the deep voice on the other line.

"Officer Patrick Sutherland?" I ask. I know it's him, but I need to make sure. It's procedure.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm Detective Olivia Benson from the 1-6 precinct."

Officer Sutherland sounds panicked. "Sex crimes? What happened? Is Alicia okay?"

"Officer Sutherland, I'd appreciate if you came down to our precinct," I tell him.

"Is it my wife?" he repeats, sounding even more concerned.

"Yes," I allow.

"What happened?"

"I'd rather you come down here, Officer," I say. "Alicia's at the precinct with us."

"Okay," he agrees. "I'll be there in ten."

I hang up the phone and hand it back to Alicia. "He's on his way," I tell her. Noticing the tears rushing to her eyes, I say gently, "Everything's going to be okay. Your husband's coming."

She shakes her head. "I'm damaged goods," she whispers. "He raped me and he burned me so I'll never forget it. He'll never want to touch me now."

"That's _not _true," I reassure her. "It takes time, but soon you'll heal, physically and psychologically."

"I'll never have a healthy sex life again," she says, looking at the ground. "It'll always remind me – of _that_. Of _him_. Of the pain _he _caused me."

"No, Alicia," I say, suddenly unsure of the right words to make her feel better. "All rape victims feel that way at first, but it gets easier. I promise."

She sighs, too drained to argue the point any further. Leaning back in her chair, she waits in silence for her husband to arrive.

Several moments later, John leads a man with hair as red as his wife's into the police station. I assume this is Patrick Sutherland.

He runs to his wife and puts an arm around her. "Alicia, are you all right?"

She nods, clearly trying to be brave, but tears rush to her eyes again and the façade is up. I've done this dance so many times that I know all the steps and helping a victim tell her significant other that she was raped is never a walk in the park, but this is different somehow.

"Alicia, do you want to tell your husband what happened or do you want me to?" I ask her.

She looks at the ground and claps her husband's hand.

"Do you want me to give you two some privacy?"

She shakes her head, looking up at me with pleading eyes. "Please stay."

"Okay," I agree. "I'm not going anywhere."

Alicia faces her husband. She opens and closes her mouth several times, then closes her eyes and tells him the whole story. He listens silently. As a police officer, he knows how to deal with victims, and I can't imagine how hard it must be for him now that his own wife has become one.

When she finishes, he doesn't say anything. He squeezes her hand comfortingly as she rests her head on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, baby," he murmurs in her ear. "There's nothing you could have done."

"I know," she whispers. "But Patty, look." She lifts up her shirt to show him the burn.

Patrick swallows hard and I'm impressed with his level of composure. I would never have been able to remain so calm if I found out someone I loved had been raped. I'd been there, done that, and hadn't been able to cope.

He looks me right in the eye. "Detective Benson," he bites out. "Get this bastard."

* * *

Finally, Patrick takes Alicia home. I've given her my card. "Call me if you need anything, anything at all," I told her and she nodded.

I go back into the squad room. "How is she holding up?" asks John, his brows knitted in concern.

"She's holding up," I tell him, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "Did you make this?"

He nods and I make a face. Before even taking a sip, I dump it down the drain.

John looks at me with a hurt look on his face. "My coffee's not _that _bad."

"Yes," says Elliot, glancing at John. "It is."

I glance at him in surprise. He's agreeing with me. He's _joking _with me. Just as it used to be.

I push the thoughts away and turn my mind to Alicia. "Okay, let's get started on this," I tell everyone. "This bastard seems to have a thing against cops. He kept saying over and over as he raped her, 'Cop's bitch,' and he even burned it onto her skin."

Detective Beck's face turns pale. "He _burned _it onto her _skin_?"

I cast her a sidelong glance. "Yes," I say sharply. "He lifted up her shirt and he took out a cigarette lighter and he burned the initials CB onto her skin. For 'Cop's bitch.'"

She looks sick and I feel a perverse, fleeting sense of satisfaction. But it's gone as quickly as it arrived and I say, "There's a special spot in hell reserved for this sick son of a bitch. Let's get him."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**Sorry if this chapter is a bit out of character for Dani and she seems a bit incompetent.**

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Two weeks later and we're still at a loss with Alicia's case. Her husband's been calling us every day at 6:00 without fail, asking if we've got any leads. And every day I have to tell him we don't. Every day, I have to listen to his resigned sigh when I give him the bad news.

I feel like crap.

All of us are working overtime to catch this vicious monster, but so far, we've got nowhere. We had two suspects at one point, but both had solid alibis so we had to let them go.

I'm sitting at my desk, going through everything we know about the man who raped Alicia. Elliot and Detective Beck, who are tighter than I'd originally realized, are chatting quietly as John and Fin help me. I try not to notice, but I can't help but think that it used to be the four of us; me, Elliot, John, and Fin. And if it wasn't the four of us, it was Elliot and I. Now, it's Elliot and Dani, then the three of us. No, who am I kidding? In all honesty, it's Dani and Elliot, John and Fin, and then me, the odd one out.

We all look up as a tall, Hispanic woman who looks to be several years older than I am enters the squad room. I go over to her, glad to be distracted from my brooding. "I'm Detective Olivia Benson," I introduce myself. "Can I help you?"

"I want to report a rape," she whispers.

"Okay," I say. "Why don't you come with me?" I lead her into a separate room and sit down across from her. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Sarah," she says, so softly that I have to strain my ears to hear her.

"Okay, Sarah," I say. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

She gives a shaky nod. "Last night, I was coming into my apartment at 7:30, maybe 8:00, and a man comes up behind me. He puts his hand over my mouth and says he'll kill me if I scream. He pushes me into the apartment, throws me on the bed, and rapes me. And – and while he's raping me, he's whispering, 'Cop's bitch.' My husband's a cop – he works for Narcotics. And when he's done raping me, he – he _burns _it into my stomach. I was just wearing a tank top and he pulled it up and he had this lighter thing and he burned CB into my stomach. Cop's bitch." She's crying by the end of her monologue, but I'm frozen, too shocked to even offer her the words of comfort she so desperately needs. This is Alicia's rapist.

Of course, I knew the guy wasn't a one time offender, so I don't know why I'm so surprised. He was obviously going to strike again, I just didn't think it would be so soon.

I interview Sarah for awhile longer. John and I take her to the hospital to have a rape kit done and I help her call her husband. They go home together, leaving my head spinning in circles at the speed of light.

When we return to the squad room, my brain is still rushing to process the information. "What's up, Liv?" asks Fin.

All I can manage is, "It's Alicia's rapist. He's struck again."

"Okay," he says. "So tell me, what's the connection?"

"Well, he burned the same thing into her stomach. He raped her but there are no fluids, no semen, nothing, just like with Alicia. They're different ages, different races. The only thing they've got in common is that they're both married to police officers."

Elliot lets out a low whistle. "This guy really hates cops."

"Yeah," I snap. "State the obvious is such a fun game, isn't it? And you're _so _good at it."

He raises his hands in surrender, seeming surprised at my animosity. I still haven't forgiven him for Dani, even though I've come to somewhat accept it by now. It's just another tough fact of life. I've had to accept a lot of these kinds of things, for example:

I'm the product of a rape

My mother was a drunk and this caused her death

Elliot and I will never be anything more than partners

I'm never going to know who my father is

Alex is gone for good and she's never coming back

So I think I'm pretty good at coping with the curveballs life throws. Life's given me a lot of really sour lemons, and all I can do is try to sweeten the taste of my lemonade.

* * *

By the next Monday, we're still floundering in water. That is, until we find another victim. Her name is Vida and she's in her late fifties. This only further clarifies that our rapist isn't raping for sexual pleasure; he's raping a specific type of woman for revenge purposes only. He wants to hurt cops and this is his way of doing it.

"It's working," comments Elliot when I tell him this. "I've been calling Kathy every couple hours – just in case."

I roll my eyes, wondering why he even cares anymore. He's left her and gotten back together so many times that it's hard to take him seriously. But then, even if I'm not Kathy's biggest fan, I wouldn't want her to be the next poor soul with CB burned into her stomach. So I don't say a word.

* * *

All of the victims have husbands who are cops, but that's the only connection. The cops are all from different precincts. One works narcotics, one works homicide, and one is a traffic cop. We're all holding our breaths, waiting for the bastard to hit SVU, but then it occurs to us that we probably have the highest stress rate out of all the different units, and the highest divorce rate too. It's difficult for me to handle a relationship because the job with always come first and most men can't accept that. Elliot's been bouncing back and forth between being with Kathy and being single, John's been divorced four times, Fin's divorced, and even the captain isn't married. So maybe the rapist will ignore our unit.

I actually don't blame Elliot when he says he needs some time off. He wants to spend some time with Kathy and I completely understand. This case is getting personal for him and I guess it's made him realize how important his wife really is. He's spending most of the day with her now, which is a step forward on any measure, and she is very happy about it, even though it's more for her protection than her pleasure. I guess she's stopped seeing me as a threat. I briefly wonder if she sees Dani as a threat too or if it is – _was _– just me. In the back of my mind, it occurs to me that if the rapist _does _make a move on Kathy, we will know who he is, but I would never ask Elliot to dangle his wife as bait.

John, Fin, Dani, and I are working the case now that Elliot's gone, and I am trying my very best to hide my envy of Dani. I have to be civil because the case is the most important thing and any tension between her and I will prevent us from solving it.

"We need to figure out who the next victim will be and then we can watch her and catch him," says Dani.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. In an ideal world, we could do that, but in reality, it's harder than it sounds. "Now how do you propose we do that?"

"Well, let's look for a pattern."

"We already _did_ that."

She ignores me. "One of them is a narc cop, one of them is a traffic cop, and one works homicide. There's also the major case squad – and us. We're the five main ones. So I would guess that one of their wives is going to be a victim, unless he doubles back, which is possible."

"So, in other words, we have nothing," clarifies Fin.

I suppress my smile. John and Fin aren't any more Dani's fans than I am.

"No. We know who's next."

"We know who _might _be next," Fin corrects her.

"And we're not sitting on the wife of every single cop," I say. "So in other words, we're nowhere."

"Olivia, he hates cops. We could be next," Dani says, raising her eyebrows. "I would think you'd be more enthusiastic about getting this son of a bitch."

"Dani. What do you think we should do?"

She turns back to our bulletin board with pictures and information about each victim. "They don't live in the same areas," she says, more to herself than anyone, ticking things off on her fingers as she goes. "Sarah lives in Queens, Vida in Brooklyn, and Alicia in Manhattan. They're different ages – Vida's in her late fifties, Alicia's in her twenties, and Sarah's in her early forties. They're different races – Alicia's white, Irish background. Sarah's Hispanic and Vida is Indian." She looks at John, Fin, and I. "The only connection is that they have police officers for husbands. Do you think they hate those three specific cops or all cops?"

I sigh. "I don't know, Dani. But the victims don't know each other and the victims' _husbands _don't know each other, so I'm guessing the latter."

"Okay, so why?"

"Maybe he's an ex-con," suggests Fin.

"Okay, so if he's an ex-con and the attacks started a month ago, maybe he just got released from jail a month ago. Let's check all the releases from prison from two months ago to last month. Cons arrested for sex crimes, most likely."

That one actually doesn't sound like such a bad idea, so I agree. "Okay. Let's check the prison releases."

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**Bear with me when it comes to the case; I'm a bit rusty when it comes to creating case files.**

**Review for chapter six!**

It turns out there are 379 men released within the last month from prisons in the tri-state area who were arrested for sex crimes. We can't check on all of them, so we just have to hope for a lucky break.

We get our break, but not in the way I hoped. We get a call three days later. There's a dead body, found in Central Park. Raped and strangled, with CB burned into her stomach.

* * *

"The victim's name is Zoë LeMarche," I explain to my colleagues. "Aged 37. Her husband's Justin LeMarche, narcotics."

"Did anyone tell him yet?" asks Dani.

I nod. "John and I called him."

"We should call Elliot," she says. "He'll want to know."

"Go ahead," I invite her. "This guy's escalating and we need to find him _now_. The more help we get, the better."

Dani starts to dial Elliot's number as I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I flip it open. "Benson."

It's Melinda. She wants me at the morgue. I tell her I'll be there in ten and hang up. Turning to John, I tell him, "Warner wants us at the morgue. She's got something."

* * *

"This time," says Melinda, "you got lucky."

"How so?" asks John, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"The vic got a piece of your perp. She scratched him and we've got DNA. I ran it through the system and got a hit."

I lean toward her. "To who?"

* * *

"Garrett Monroe, age thirty," I explain to the other detectives, leafing through his file. "Lives in the city, arrested for assault on a police officer a year ago, got out last month."

"Assault on a police officer?" questions Fin.

"The police officer happened to be his girlfriend. He beat the crap out of her when he found out she was cheating."

Dani raises her eyebrows. "He managed to overpower a police officer?"

"Yes," I snap. "Being a cop doesn't make us invincible."

She shrugs. "So where is this guy right now?"

* * *

According to his parole officer, Garrett Monroe is currently living in an apartment building on 111th Street. John, Fin, and Dani come with me. I knock on his apartment door. "Mr. Monroe, it's the police. Open up!"

There's no answer, so I knock again. When there's still no reply, I gesture for my colleagues to step back and kick down the door. "Police!" I call out, taking my gun out of its holster and holding it up as I go into the kitchen. "Clear!"

I hear similar calls from the other detectives as they search the bedroom, the family room, and the bathroom. Fin pokes his head out. "Liv, he's not here."

I sigh. Now we know who did it, but he's MIA. We have to catch him before he strikes again.

* * *

Dani and Fin spend the night sitting outside Garrett Monroe's apartment building, just in case the idiot decides to come back. John and I are at the precinct, going over everything we know about Garrett Monroe, trying to figure out his location, but to no avail.

Captain Cragen comes into the squad room around two in the morning. "Liv, John," he says, and my heart sinks at the sombre expression on my captain's face. "Our cop hater has struck again."

* * *

We arrive at the crime scene within ten minutes. The captain leads us to a secluded spot in the park where a woman is lying face up on the ground. I suck in my breath when I see her. "Any ID on her?"

CSU O'Halloran shakes his head.

"I think – I think I know her," I whisper. "We went to the Academy together. Her name's Victoria Grossi. She's a cop. She works homicides." We were never friends, more like acquaintances, but I knew her well enough. She was crazy smart – people always said she could have gone to Harvard and wondered why she hadn't. But her dream was to be a cop. Although academia came naturally to her, she wanted to help people, and she did.

"No husband?" asks Captain Cragen.

I shake my head and gently pull up her shirt. I wince as I see the burn on her stomach. It doesn't say CB for "Cop's bitch." Instead, it says BC, and I whisper, "Bitch cop."

"So he's progressed from killing cops' wives to cops themselves," states John dryly. "Wonderful."

* * *

Melinda tells us that Victoria was raped and strangled just like Zoë. There's no DNA, but we all know it's Garrett Monroe. He's killed again and we need to find him now, before he continues his spree. New York's finest are in danger and it's a race against time.

* * *

Dani has the brilliant idea that we should check out the girlfriend that Garrett assaulted – if she's still alive. I offer to come with her, even though being in a car with just Dani is the last thing I want. But justice for the victims is worth more than my pride.

We drive to the girlfriend's apartment in silence. Her name is Marianne Stratton and she's a detective with Brooklyn SVU. I knock on her apartment door. "Detective Stratton?"

The door opens and a brown-haired woman who looks much older than her forty years stands in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I'm Detective Benson," I tell her. "This is Detective Beck. We work with Manhattan SVU. We have some questions for you about your ex-boyfriend, Garrett Monroe."

Her face closes off but she steps aside so we can enter her apartment. "What happened?"

"He's a suspect in a murder investigation," I explain. "Do you know where he is?"

She rolls her eyes. "Why would I know where that bastard is? He's out of my life for now and I hope he stays out."

Dani's eyes narrow. "Your ex-boyfriend murdered two women and raped three others. All of them cops or wives of cops. He burned 'Cop's bitch' or 'Bitch cop' into their stomachs." Marianne's face turns white and Dani seems to have gotten the reaction she wanted, so she presses on, "So help your sisters in blue."

Marianne turns her face away from Dani and looks at me. Slowly, she lifts her shirt to show me the initials, so familiar, burned onto her stomach. BC. "Bitch cop," she whispers. "That's what he always said to me. I'd help you if I could, but I can't. I'm sorry. But when you find him – please, put his sorry ass in prison for the rest of his miserable life."

As we leave Marianne's house, I'm fuming. "Could you have been any harder on that woman?" I fire at Dani.

"I know," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I don't need the lecture on how horrible I am with victims. I know. But such is life."

I quicken my pace and climb into the squad car, slamming the car door. "Drive," I bite out, and she does.

* * *

We work the case for 48 hours until Captain Cragen finally pulls the file from my hand. "Hey!" I say indignantly, but he shakes his head.

"Go home, Liv. You've been working this case for two days straight. Get some sleep."

"But –" I start to protest, but he raises his hand to stop me.

"No. The answer is no. You're no help to us when you're exhausted. I'll see you at seven tomorrow morning and not a moment before."

I growl but obediently grab my coat and exit the squad room.

I'm standing outside the precinct with my arm raised to hail a cab when I feel a strong hand cover my mouth. A man is standing behind me and he has me in his tight grasp. "Scream and you're dead," he hisses in my ear, and that's as far as I can remember.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine; they belong to Dick Wolf.**

**Warning: M rated scenes in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Sorry if it seems a bit out of character. This is the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Review, as always.**

When I come to, I'm in a room with no windows. Probably a basement, if I have to guess. My head is killing me and I have bruises all the way down my arms. Luckily, though, my clothes are in place. Thank goodness for small comforts.

I need to think. Where am I and how the hell am I going to get out of here? I look around, but the room is cold and bare. There are no clues as to my location. Checking my watch, I realize that I've been here for about twelve hours. Whatever drug this man gave me must have been pretty strong, because I remember leaving the precinct at 10:00 and it's now 9:30 in the morning. I was supposed to be back two and a half hours ago. Hopefully, Captain Cragen has the presence of mind to call out a search for me and realize that I would never be late of my own volition.

I hear footsteps approaching and immediately freeze. I reach for my holster but my gun isn't there. The realization sends a wave of panic through my whole body and I take a deep breath to try to calm myself as the footsteps grow louder.

A door that I haven't noticed before opens and a tall man with dark hair and eyes so hard and cold that I shiver involuntarily stands in the doorway. "Oh, hello, Detective Benson," he says with a self-satisfied smirk. "Do you know who I am?"

I do, actually. "You're Garrett Monroe."

His grin widens. "That's right. Glad you figured it out."

I give him a curt nod. "Where are we?"

Ignoring my question, he says, "You know what I did to those women."

I don't say anything. Of course I do and he knows it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.

"You're going to meet the same fate," he adds casually.

My breath pulse quickens and I know the only way to get myself out of it is to keep him talking. "Why'd you do it?"

"I hate cops."

"I figured that. But why?"

"My fiancée, Marianne. I believe you met her. She's a cop like you. Brooklyn SVU. We were going to be married. But she cheated. I was going to kill her."

This man is even crazier than I thought. As I do when in hostage situations, I whisper, "Garrett, there's no way out of this. You need to –"

"Shut up!" he shrieks, and I know instinctively that this was what Victoria said to him before he killed her and that's why the words bother him so much. I have to stop myself from becoming his next victim, but then I see that he's got my gun and he's pointing it at me.

In one swift movement, he's gripping my shoulders and pressing the gun to the side of my head. "Now you're going to do what I say," he says, his amicable manner gone.

I try to hit him, kick him, elbow him, anything to get away, but he's too strong and just tightens his grasp. "Fight me and I'll kill you, bitch cop," he hisses in my ear, and even though I'm a police officer, which means I should be braver than this, I can't help but admit that I'm terrified.

There's nothing I can do for myself except hope that my colleagues will be here soon. Even though I would never want them to see me like this, my life is more important than my pride. Especially Elliot. My heart feels heavy in my chest. _Oh, Elliot. I never got to say goodbye. I'm sorry, Elliot. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _"I'm sorry," I whisper aloud, then press my lips together so no more words can escape. I won't let this bastard hear me beg.

He pushes me against the wall and presses his lips to mine. I try to push him away, but he's got a gun to my head and I'd rather escape with my life than my pride. His tongue invades my mouth and I gag, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists. _Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please . . . _

He starts to tear at my clothes and I know better than to fight back. I make my body go limp and try to go somewhere else in my mind as he runs his hands up and down my hips, my legs, my stomach. He forces my legs open and touches me, everywhere. Silent tears stream down my face but I don't cry out. First of all, no one would even hear me if I did and secondly, I don't want him to see my weakness.

He pulls down his pants and then he's inside me. I bite my bottom lip to hold back my scream, tasting blood.

Finally, he pushes me away. He throws me to the ground, a look of disgust on his face. "We'll have some more fun later," he says, the disgust on his face giving way to an eerie, self-satisfied smirk. "You're better than all the other ones, so maybe you'll get to survive a bit longer."

I'm in too much pain to even respond. Lying on that cold, basement floor with my clothes strewn on the other side of the room, tears streaming down my cheeks from the pain that's assaulting my body, I feel more vulnerable than I've felt in my entire life.

He gets up and slams the door as he leaves, and I thank God for the small comfort of solitude in my time of weakness. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend it's just a bad dream. I'm going to wake up in the morning and I'll be in the cribs, Elliot lying in the bed next to mine. _Oh, Elliot. _I cry myself into a fitful sleep.

* * *

"Liv, Liv, wake up!" I wake to a panicked hiss in my ear. Someone's shaking my shoulders. Garrett.

"No," I murmur, curling into a ball. Shying away from the man, I raise my hands over my head to protect it from the impending blows. "No, no, no."

"Liv," says the voice again, and then it registers. _Liv. _Not _Detective Benson_. _Liv. _I breathe a sigh of relief. It's not Garrett.

The man puts his hand on my shoulder and I cringe as he says, "Liv, are you all right?"

I'm still a bit light-headed but I vaguely recognize the voice. "_Elliot_?"

"Yeah, Liv, it's me. Are you okay?"

There's another voice now. Captain Cragen's. I can't decipher what he's saying but I feel him kneel down and drape his jacket over my trembling body. That's when I realize that my clothes are lying on the other side of the room and my face turns red in shame.

I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment when I hear one more voice. "Olivia?"

Oh, my God, it's Dani. It's the most humiliating thing for them to see me like this, so vulnerable, so weak. I'm no longer the tough cop that I am when I have my badge and my gun and my partner; I'm just another victim and that's what hurts the most. I can't bear for them to see me like this.

I force myself to look up at Dani. She's standing in the doorway, her face pale. She's holding onto Garrett and his hands are cuffed behind his back. "I can't," she whispers, then turns and runs from the room, dragging Garrett along with her.

"What did he do to you?" whispers Elliot, kneeling beside me. I'm just so glad that he's here, with me, and he still cares. "Did – did he burn you?"

I shake my head. Thank God he hasn't, but he probably would have if they hadn't gotten here so soon. My head is spinning and I rest it back on the cold floor.

Elliot looks into my eyes, a concerned expression on his face. "Liv, what happened? Are you okay?"

I shake my head as two tears streak down my face like large, wet pearls. I angrily brush them away, but more appear and soon I'm outright sobbing. "He raped me."

Elliot wraps his arms around me and I relax in his embrace. This is what I've wanted for years, and it seems ironic that in my darkest hour, I will also get the one thing I've wished for for so long. "I'm going to kill the bastard," he murmurs in my ear.

I don't say anything, just rest my head against his shoulder. It's okay. I'm safe now. Everything's going to be just fine.

EMS arrives several moments later. "I don't need a hospital," I protest weakly. "I'm fine."

But obviously I'm not fine and Captain Cragen shakes his head. "Liv, you're getting checked out. I'll see the two of you back at the precinct later, okay?"

"I'll ride with her," offers Elliot and the captain nods his consent.

"Dani and I will deal with this rotten son of a bitch."

Elliot lifts me into his arms and sets me gently onto a stretcher. I roll onto my side and stare at him as he climbs into the ambulance behind me. He takes my hand and strokes it comfortingly. "Liv," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I shake my head vehemently. "This isn't your fault."

"I know," he says. "But Dani – I mean, I missed you but I was so angry. You never even told me you were leaving. I forgot how much I cared about you until I thought I'd lost you. And now I'm never going to ever let that happen again."

"But Dani –" I begin weakly.

"Dani's leaving," he informs me. "She's not right for SVU – it was temporary anyway. This one pushed her over the edge. She said she'd help me find you but then she was out of here. She said she didn't want to stay where she wasn't wanted and this was just too much for her to handle."

I couldn't agree more, but I don't want to tell him that. "So it's me and you again?"

He nods, squeezing my hand tightly. "It's me and you again. Forever."

**So that's it. Hope you enjoyed. Please drop me a review and tell me if you liked it.**


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